


your body bare

by wartimelovers



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: (and what a weird fucking first time eh), Angel Sex, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Body Worship, Bodyswap, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Coming Untouched, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), First Time, Fluff and Smut, Hair-pulling, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Size Kink, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, You know what I mean, fucking your own body with someone else inhabiting is a kind of narcissism isnt it?, general mindfuck of a fic, occult (and ethereal) beings have no refractory period, oh well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 15:01:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19466428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wartimelovers/pseuds/wartimelovers
Summary: They have swapped bodies before. Just for fun.





	your body bare

**Author's Note:**

> hello everyone 
> 
> this is a smut piece i thought up whilst being bored at work. hope you like it. hope it isnt too weird. or too stale. let me know what you think, because i havent written porn in almost f o u r years lmao (my last smutty work was posted july 9th 2015 yikes) 
> 
> so yeah wherever i say aziraphale i mean aziraphale-in-crowleys-body and when i say crowley i mean crowley-in-aziraphales-body. you get my drift
> 
> so yeah enjoy some weird bodyswap porn with some feelings sprinkled on top

Crowley was splayed out on Aziraphale’s comfortable sofa in the backroom of the bookshop. The angel was shuffling about, trying to find that one particular bottle of wine he’d picked up in 1951, saying it would be perfect for the occasion. What the occasion truly was, Crowley wasn’t sure. To him, there wasn’t much out of ordinary about this meeting. It was, alas, the easier times, sometime before Armageddon was set in motion, when the biggest of his concerns was how to do the least work and get the best commendations.

Ah, yes, he thought dimly. Work. He had already downed some cocktails on the way to Aziraphale, as if getting tipsy could somehow help him with the perfect memory of an eternal being. To be frank, it helped a little for a period of time. And that had to be enough.

“Aha!” Aziraphale exclaimed. He was crouching by a bookshelf and when he straightened up, he was holding the missing bottle of wine in his hands. He miracled two wine glasses and sat down on the sofa next to Crowley, their knees almost touching (mainly due to how obnoxiously Crowley was sprawled on it, but still.)

Aziraphale always kept his distance.

On his end, Crowley regarded the bottle. “Might need a bit more than that.”

“Is there something wrong, dear boy?” Aziraphale asked, brows furrowed in worry. He filled the glasses and handed Crowley one, who immediately brought it up to his lips and took a sip. Aziraphale was right. It was a good wine for the occasion – exquisite taste with undertones bitter enough to make you wince.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Crowley mumbled evasively over the brim of his glass. This earned him another worried look but Aziraphale didn’t press further.

Truth was, nothing was _really_ wrong. He was just feeling odd. A few days ago, Hell sent him a memo with instructions. Quite frankly, it was this sort of thing that he hadn’t done since the 17th century. Well, maybe briefly in the Romanticism period, but that was just for fun. This time, it felt rather bizarre. People weren’t really interested (or really scared) of demons with horns and fangs, no, they’ve gotten way creative for that. But the Head Office wanted him to pay a visit to a cult leader who needed some fresh ideas. The outfit choice was rather awful, though.

And it wasn’t even the snake form, no. The snake he didn’t mind as much, it was probably even closer to his true form than anything ever was. No, they wanted him to present as a scary abomination with blood-covered fangs and stinking goo coming out of various places. A vision that could only come from the mind of man. Which, fun fact, is how many of Hell’s best fashion trends came about. Horns and burning body parts had been particular hits in their own time, but everyone disliked the idea of hooves. They were just too damn uncomfortable.

Never in his long existence was changing shape this uncomfortable. He usually rather liked it in the past. It was this sort of make-believe thing that took his mind off other things. But the job from few days ago left bitter taste in his mouth and weird tingling feeling that seemed to transcend his physical body’s limits and sink into his soul. Being. Whatever.

This prompted him to _think_ and Crowley hasn’t despised being a sentient being this much since the suffering of the 14th century. Precisely, he thought about his body. And what it, apparently, meant to him. For centuries, Crowley regarded his body as a means of transport on Earth. Something he owned, like the Bentley or his flat, but never something he was. That is why shapeshifting wasn’t any issue back then. Gradually, it became more and more uncomfortable to leave this body for other forms and with some dismay Crowley realised that, somewhere along the way, he started to identify with it. It was no longer just a space he occupied.

So there, that wasn’t really a problem. Only partially listening to Aziraphale’s rambling, he sipped his wine, his glass refilling by itself whenever he got close to finishing his drink, and _observed._ He looked intently at how Aziraphale gestured, once almost spilling his drink on the beige sofa. How the angel looked at his glass annoyed, as if it was due to some unknowable fault in it that the wine almost stained his sofa, not his own clumsiness. Crowley observed and catalogued how the angel paused to gather his thoughts and how every single bit of any emotion he felt was clearly visible on his face. He wondered if he was as easy to read as well.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale said rather loudly. Crowley shifted on the sofa, realising that was probably because he must have said that a few times before and got no reaction. “Listen, if my company is not what you want right now, then maybe it would be best if you–”

“No, no, that’s not it,” he replied quickly.

“What is it, then? You’ve been awfully quiet today for, well, you.”

Crowley gave him a lopsided smile and pulled himself upright on the sofa. “Have you ever had to transform into someone else? Change your corporeal form, I mean. For a task or whatnot,” he said instead of answering Aziraphale’s question.

Aziraphale looked puzzled and thought about it for a while. “Not really,” he replied. “We have learned long time ago that angel’s true from scares the humans almost as much as a demon. And as to this body, I have only ever altered it a bit when needed. But apart from that…” he trailed off for a bit. “And, of course, I only really leave it when I have to report back to the Office.”

Crowley focused his eyes on his glass. When he spoke, his voice was quiet but curious.

“Do you like it?”

“Well, I’ve had it for six thousand years. I’m used to it,” Aziraphale replied. Crowley could sense he was getting suspicious about the whole thing.

“Exactly!” he said then. “Don’t you ever wonder how it would feel to be someone else?”

“I don’t think I could _be_ someone else… In another body, I would still be me.”

“Are you sure about that?” Crowley said, leaning in. Reflexively, Aziraphale leaned back and straightened up. A constant part of their six-thousand-year dance.

“Are you trying to tempt me, Crowley?” Aziraphale was rather tense.

“God– Satan forbid! Or not! Ah! Point is, ‘m not.” This was getting ridiculous. Crowley was just trying to make conversation. No ulterior motive. Or no _big_ ulterior motive.

“What is that you’re saying, then?” Aziraphale squinted.

“I’m saying,” he said slowly, stretching out the vowels, “that we could maybe swap bodies and see what happens. See if you still feel the same.” He extended his arm in between them.

That seemed to startle Aziraphale and he opened his mouth to say no, but no sound left it in the end. He pondered the offer instead. The idea was weirdly exciting. He liked the body he had and had grown used to it over millennia but this. This seemed somewhat thrilling. An experiment. A nice way to spice up a Wednesday afternoon.

Aziraphale raised his hand and moved it, stopping only a few inches away from Crowley’s still outstretched arm. “Are you sure it’s safe?” he asked.

“Yeah, yeah, angel, just get on with it.”

“But is it safe?” Aziraphale pressed on.

Crowley rolled his eyes, mumbled something incomprehensible mockingly and grabbed Aziraphale’s outstretched hand. “I don’t know, we’ll just have to find out!” he chuckled. The contact sent shivers down his spine and he focused his energy on the swap. He’s possessed bodies before, but this was different. This was a full exchange.

Following the will of his mind, his being started to move slowly from the centre of his chest and travelled down his arm. The exact moment of the swap wasn’t clear, but it tingled. He realised his eyes were shut tightly and opened them slowly. He was still on the sofa, Aziraphale’s hand still in his own, but it wasn’t Aziraphale now. That is, in technical sense, it was. But what Crowley was looking at was his own body.

He thought it would be weirder, seeing himself from someone else’s perspective. The only odd thing about it so far was how much clumsier Aziraphale seemed to be in his body. He sat with his back hunched, shivering slightly. Crowley realised it must have been much weirder for him, having never possessed anybody nor changing shape. He put his other hand on top of their joined hands and gave them a gentle stroke.

“There, there, now,” he said. Aziraphale was not looking at him, his gaze somewhat absently wandering around the room. “It wasn’t so bad, was it, now?”

Aziraphale seemed to regain his composure. And he looked angry. Crowley had always thought that Aziraphale looked rather sweet even when he was angry (part of being an angel, he guessed) but now his usually sweet anger looked menacing on Crowley’s own features. It was as if Crowley’s body couldn’t accommodate Aziraphale’s expressions and ticks. It looked a bit like an ill-fitting mask. This was going to be interesting.

“That could have discorporated both of us!” Aziraphale exclaimed. He finally focused his eyes on Crowley, as if to avoid looking at the body he was now in. He also took his hand out of Crowley’s hold, a little harsher than the other would have liked. “And I can’t even begin to imagine how I would explain that in Heaven! And you, down below. They could destroy–”

“Yeah, but we’re fine, angel,” Crowley interrupted. “How does it feel?”

Aziraphale closed his mouth and lowered the finger he had been angrily pointing at Crowley. He looked down at the hands in his lap and wiggled the fingers, once, twice. Then he stood up and took a few weird shaped steps around the room. He pondered the question for a little bit more and finally looked at Crowley again.

“Your legs are weird,” he said finally and Crowley couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “And quite honestly, I have said it before, but your taste in clothing is _atrocious_. How can you even sit comfortably in trousers like these?” He gestured dramatically towards his black jeans. “Not to speak of the shirt… Why is everything you own so _tight_?”

“Looks good,” Crowley shrugged. “You should try that sometimes. Wearing clothes that fit, I mean. And were produced in this century.”

Deep inside, he was really glad the angel couldn’t tell how he actually felt. Horrible truth was that he felt immensely comfortable, not only in Aziraphale’s clothing, but also in his body. There was something oddly familiar about it, something he has never felt before.

When Aziraphale remained silent (but for the glaring look which conveyed way more than any words could), Crowley spoke again. “So, could you continue like this? Live on for another six thousand years in that body, that is.”

“Yes, provided I could change my clothes” Aziraphale answered without skipping a bit, clearly set on proving his own point. “I would just have to get used to it, is all.”

“Liar!” Crowley exclaimed and rose to his feet rapidly. Then he wobbled. This body clearly lacked the smooth movements of a serpent. Once he regained his composure, he took a few menacing steps towards Aziraphale, who, automatically backed away until he reached a wall.

It was definitely weird to be smaller than Aziraphale. Weird to be looking up at him.

“Nonsense!” Aziraphale tried to sound confident, but his current position against the wall undermined him a little. “Angels don’t lie.”

Crowley smirked and sauntered closer. He was already finding his way around this new comfortable body. “Yeah, of course, of course,” he said mockingly.

Aziraphale glared at him but said nothing.

“I’m sure over the years you must’ve found your way around this,” Crowley said, gesturing broadly over the body he was inhabiting. He was close to Aziraphale now, could hear his shallow breathing pattern, and his hand reached out to fiddle with the sleeve of the black shirt he was wearing. “Learn what feels good… And what doesn’t.”

He punctuated the end of that sentence by popping the button of the sleeve and rolling it up to Aziraphale’s elbow. Then he slowly circled his finger on the inner side of his wrist and slowly dragged it upwards. Aziraphale visibly shuddered.

“Tell me, do you think you could handle this?” Crowley pressed. His thumb was now rubbing small circles on Aziraphale’s forearm and the angel seemed incapable of doing anything but letting himself feel that. Crowley smiled wickedly and leaned in closer, so his breath was ghosting over Aziraphale’s exposed neck. “Learning all of the new quirks of this body, for a start? You’ve had the previous one for so long, you might have forgotten the thrill as well…”

He trailed off and finally let his lips touch Aziraphale’s hot skin. He pressed a wet kiss on the side of his throat and relished in the sudden hitch in Aziraphale’s breathing. Soon enough he was sucking quite eagerly on his neck, knowing it would leave a purple mark. A wicked part of him hoped that the mark will still be there once they change back.

His other hand crept up Aziraphale’s side and started caressing him there. Running over his back and the smooth planes of his chest. His shirt was barely buttoned up as it was and Crowley popped the rest of them, leaving the black silk to fall open, revealing all of Aziraphale’s naked chest.

“And how would you feel knowing that I, of all creatures, know the best how your body works?” he asked. His hand trailed down to Aziraphale’s crotch. He felt a rather substantial bulge there. “Interesting,” he hummed into his ear. “That wasn’t there before.”

He flattened his palm against it and rubbed. Aziraphale let out a stifled moan and his hips buckled up involuntarily.

“What is that you’re doing here, exactly, Crowley?” he gritted out.

“Proving a point,” came a reply. Crowley unbuttoned Aziraphale’s jeans and slid his hand inside, but before he could do anything, Aziraphale pushed him off and pinned him to the wall, switching their position. The angel grabbed both of his hands and pinned them together above his head.

“You think you’re the expert,” Aziraphale murmured in a tone Crowley has never heard him use before. It was positively maddening. He could feel desire pool deep in his stomach and spread vaguely downwards.

Aziraphale snapped his fingers and suddenly Crowley’s chest was completely bare. He had enough sense to look down and appreciate how good this body looked. And then Aziraphale’s free hand was on his chest, flicking his nipple of all things, and he felt like he was losing his mind.

His own nipples – the ones on his usual body, that is – were never that sensitive. It felt nice if he touched them but it never was remotely close as to how he was feeling now. He writhed in Aziraphale’s hold, desperate for something, for a different kind of touch.

Aziraphale, on his end, was relentless. He bent down and took the other nipple in his mouth, sucking fervently. There was no urgency to his movements, just meticulousness. Crowley realised his goal was to reduce him to nothing but a whimpering mess and he decided he wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction. Not yet, anyway.

“You wicked, beautiful thing,” Aziraphale all but breathed and he rose up to bring their mouths together.

This was better than Crowley had ever imagined, and he imagined that moment _a lot_. Aziraphale kissed him with fervour and wasted no time, really, almost immediately licking at his bottom lip, and, when Crowley parted his lips, licking hungrily inside his mouth. In the heat of the moment he released Crowley’s hands from his grip above his head.

Now that was the moment Crowley was waiting for. His body might have been aflame with this burning passion, but he still had priorities. Without breaking their heated kiss, his hands found their way into Aziraphale’s hair. And then he pulled. Hard.

Aziraphale moaned loudly and pulled away. Both of them were panting, stealing each other’s air, faces just inches away from each other.

“Two can play this game,” Crowley smirked.

“Precisely,” Aziraphale shot back.

Sudden change of position took Crowley by surprise. He was now on his back on Aziraphale’s big (and largely unused) bed. The angel was sitting in between his spread legs. Both of them were now naked, breathing laboured.

Crowley let out a small sigh. “I rather enjoyed undressing you,” he complained.

“Next time, then,” replied Aziraphale, already bending down, as if to inspect the space in between Crowley’s legs further. He hummed. “Haven’t had one of those in a long time.”

The implication that Aziraphale has had others stung a bit, but Crowley chose to ignore that feeling for now. “Would you like me to change it?” he asked instead.

“No, no,” replied Aziraphale. He brought his mouth down to Crowley’s clit and licked rather forcefully. One of his hands was caressing Crowley’s thigh, the other was wandering about the outer folds of his cunt. Nothing serious has happened yet and Crowley already felt like it was too much. He forced his body to calm down a little.

Crowley felt a finger slip into him and almost simultaneously, Aziraphale’s mouth closed on his clit and he sucked as if his life depended on it. Crowley’s hips rose from the bed as if they had a mind of their own, following the movements of Aziraphale’s mouth. He switched in between licking and sucking, both done so enthusiastically Crowley couldn’t quite believe it. But then again, he had been observing Aziraphale enjoy food for literal millennia. Of course, the angel devoured anything he liked fully and completely.

Crowley was incredibly glad this involved him. It felt like too much and not enough at the same time, the incredible pressure of Aziraphale’s tongue on his clit, the emptiness inside him, where there was only one thin finger. Aziraphale’s big hand was holding down his hips to stop him from bucking up or down, whatever, from taking more than he was given.

Crowley whimpered loudly. He wanted so much more, he just couldn’t seem to find the words to ask for it.

“Getting impatient, aren’t we?” asked Aziraphale in an incredibly sweet tone. It seemed out of place in the context of what his mouth had been doing up to that point. He slipped a second finger inside Crowley’s cunt and began fucking him slowly, scissoring them from time to time. Yet he was avoiding the parts of him that would send him over the edge, the bastard.

“You’re doing so well, honey,” Aziraphale continued. He was speaking slowly, not rushing, placing sweet kisses on Crowley’s plump chest. Occasionally, he would stop to nibble on the soft flesh and suck a purple mark there. Watching him was almost too much, yet Crowley couldn’t seem to look away. “You are so beautiful, so good for me, just perfect…”

Crowley’s orgasm took him by surprise. It was a powerful wave that takes one under, hard to come back from. Aziraphale fucked him through it, pulling himself up a little to kiss his mouth hungrily. Crowley’s hands grabbed at him almost at random, roaming over his back, where his wings would be if they were to manifest, dragging his nails there, looking for any sort of leverage. His legs wrapped around Aziraphale’s middle, pulling him in closer, almost edging him in, inviting.

“Greedy,” Aziraphale smiled against his mouth. “You’ve only just come and still you want more.”

“Please, Aziraphale– _Oh_ – I can’t,” whimpered Crowley, not even sure himself what was that he was trying to say. His hand found its way back into Aziraphale’s hair, pulling on the long red strands.

It was Aziraphale’s turn to moan and his face fell into the crook of Crowley’s neck. He quickly removed his fingers from where Crowley was still lightly pulsing and tightening and lined up his cock with his cunt. He pushed in slowly, almost at an excruciating pace, and Crowley marvelled and whimpered at how amazing that felt. Once he was fully inside, he pushed himself upwards to look down on Crowley’s flushed face.

“How’s that, love?” he asked. The affection shining bright through the use of pet names almost obliterated Crowley. “Is that how you like it?”

I wouldn’t know, thought Crowley. For all his big talk, he’s never done that with an actual person before. He’d seen orgies, he orchestrated them, but he never participated. But he wasn’t going to tell Aziraphale that.

The other thing, what he actually meant to say, wasn’t coming along any easier. He mumbled something and turned his face away.

“Dear,” said Aziraphale softly. He brought one of his hands up to Crowley’s cheek and stroked it. “I want to make this the best it can be for you. Please talk to me.”

Crowley miracled away the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes. This was too sweet, too tender, not like he imagined it would be. In his imagination, Aziraphale either rejected him anyway or took what was his without any regard for Crowley’s pleasure. Never once this imagined lover did ask what Crowley wanted. And maybe that was best. This was clearly proving to be too much for him.

Aziraphale was still inside of him, hard and unyielding. His eyes – _Crowley’s eyes_ , to be exact – were looking at him with a mixture of lust, worry and affection.

“I said, could you get bigger,” Crowley said a little bit louder, finally. And then, “Please,” he added.

Aziraphale smiled at him charmingly. “Anything for you, love,” he said.

Within a second, Crowley could feel him swell inside of him. Just an inch in girth, two inches in length. The feeling alone was insanely erotic, to have Aziraphale grow inside him, push at his walls like this. Crowley moaned and threw his head back. His hips gave a little twitch on their own accord.

Aziraphale, rightfully, took it as an okay sign. The pace at which his cock grew slowed down and he started rocking in and out softly and slowly at first, building the pace as he went. They clung to each other as if they were drowning, swallowing up each other’s moans. They kissed fervently, tasting each other. Finally, Aziraphale broke away, propped himself on his forearms to look at Crowley underneath him. The demon was writhing, his body covered in sweat and lovebites.

“How’s that now, love?” asked Aziraphale.

“Don’t stop, feels– Oh, mmgh– Feels so good,” breathed Crowley in that same moment. He felt full to the point of bursting, yet he still wanted more. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew that every human body had its limits, but he willed his to loosen them up a little. Just for now.

Aziraphale felt impossibly big inside of him. Each thrust dragged deliciously against the walls of his cunt and he was almost sure now that he wasn’t able to fit all of his cock inside him. One look in between their joined bodies confirmed his theory – there were now solid few inches of Aziraphale’s cock that wasn’t going into him, because there wasn’t possibly more space to fit it.

He looked up and caught Aziraphale’s gaze. He was watching him through half-closed eyes, his pupils blown wide and open. He promptly sped up his thrusts, both of them moaning louder. Crowley knew Aziraphale was close, could somehow sense it on a weird level, in the way his hips began to lose their rhythm and how his breathing became quicker and quicker. Aziraphale, on his part, brought his free hand down to Crowley’s clit, but Crowley pushed it away.

“No, just you,” he said, and brought Aziraphale’s face down to his, kissing him passionately. He made sure to pull at his hair as he went, which earned him a particularly hard thrust and a moan on his lips.

Aziraphale bit on his lower lip. “You’re amazing, sweetheart. Doing so good. Beautiful,” he repeated like a litany.

And with a final thrust of his hips, he came. Crowley could swear his cock got impossibly bigger with that, too, though it was hardly any time to think about that, as the feeling of being stuffed so full, almost overflowing, sent him over the edge as well. Aziraphale fucked him slowly through it and Crowley relished in the feeling of being filled with obnoxious amount of come (whether that was an angel thing, he didn’t know).

Aziraphale collapsed on top of him but didn’t pull out. Both of them panted heavily as they came down from that particularly amazing high. Crowley knew he would probably regret asking the following, but he still did, “How did you get so good at it?”

“Practice,” Aziraphale answered simply. He finally pulled out and rolled on his back to lie beside Crowley on the bed. The copious amount of come began to seep from Crowley’s cunt slowly and it should have been disgusting or uncomfortable, but it felt weirdly nice. He thought about it as if he were claimed and decided he rather liked that thought.

“And with whom did you practice, _my dear_?” he pressed on.

Aziraphale gave him a puzzled look. “You’d think something like that would shut you up,” he just said.

Crowley only raised his eyebrows at him.

“Fine,” Aziraphale sighed. “I am not proud of this, but there had been some humans along the way who… caught my eye. I can imagine it’s hardly been different for you.”

Crowley remained silent and only a slight twitch of his face gave him away.

“No?” Aziraphale looked at him with disbelief. “So that was… your…” he trailed off.

“Maybe so,” Crowley replied, as if that could save his dignity. “I was just never interested. Before you, that is.”

Aziraphale’s face momentarily brightened with the softest of smiles. Then he furrowed his brows. “But we’ve known each other this long– Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Didn’t think you’d want to.”

Aziraphale didn’t reply to that, just leaned in, and kissed Crowley again. The kiss was sweet and soft and tender, almost innocent. Crowley felt warm all over. This was definitely not how he thought the body swap would go, but boy, was that the best result.

“Should we talk about what happened, though?” he heard himself say. Apparently, he was just shooting stupid questions left and right today.

“Tomorrow,” Aziraphale replied, his voice deep and lazy. He snuggled closer to Crowley’s warm body, who’s rearranged himself slightly on the bed so Aziraphale could hold him from behind. Nothing ever felt this good. Crowley relaxed. Alright, tomorrow, then.

“Should we swap back?” he asked then.

“No, tomorrow, too,” Aziraphale mumbled into his hair. “I’ve quite come to like this body of yours.”

Crowley smiled and brought Aziraphale’s hand up to his mouth to place a soft kiss on top of it. “Yeah, me too,” he said.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! please do leave a comment if youve got anything to say to me (always appreciated!!!) and yeah, kudos as well. thank you so so much x 
> 
> tumblr - wartimelovers - come yell about good omens with me, please :)


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